


Rich Kids

by apex__predator



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angry Sex, Asphyxiation, Blood and Gore, Cutting, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom/sub, Drinking, Drunk Driving, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, Homophobia, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Omorashi, Oral Fixation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pet Names, Physical Abuse, Power Imbalance, Self-Harm, Smoking, Strangulation, Submission, Unrequited Love, Watersports, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 20:50:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18820477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apex__predator/pseuds/apex__predator
Summary: Michael is the heir of a multi-million dollar company and Roman is the head of their competitor.  Michael can't keep away no matter how much he tries.





	Rich Kids

**Author's Note:**

> My first work on ao3 :) please be kind!  
> Read the tags!! This fic is heavy  
> Tagged rape/noncon because of extreme dubcon and major character death is only implied.  
> DISCLAIMER: This is fantasy!! Illegal or manipulative behavior modeled in this work is for fantasy purposes _only_ and the author does not support rape, abusive relationships, etc. IRL.

The plush chair dips slightly as Michael drops into it. The apartment is empty, looking even more expensive without people walking about.

Michael groans loudly, fishing in his pocket with shaking hands for his cigarette pack. He knows his father wouldn’t be happy, he always said he’d end up like his mother. Bitter and resentful, a dead woman walking.

With a humourless snort Michael raised the unlit cig to his lips, lighter striking in his other hand.

He focused intently on the houseplant on the other side of the wall, room desolate otherwise. His father appreciated a minimalist look, but Michael never enjoyed the lack of personality.

Michael tried to ignore the obvious as he took a long drag on the cig, sitting slouched on the chair. A ding from his phone as it flashed with a text message. Michael took one look at who it was and turned it face side down.

It was Roman, that fucking _prick_. Just because his stupid alcoholic father decided to die early he thought he was better than Michael for running his family companies assets. Michael never actually cared about his future company’s petty rivalry, but there was something about Roman that got his blood running burning hot.

Perhaps a bit _too_ hot.

Michael’s own thin, pale arm lays on his lap, squeezing his thigh. His complexion was always porcelain white, his arms unbelievably thin despite his years of hockey and basketball.

Guess that’s what happens when your whore of a mother didn’t feed you properly as a child. Michael had never stopped to think about it, mostly because thinking was one thing he wasn’t particularly good at.

There’s a lot of things he should probably think about. But as long as there was alcohol and pills, the confusion of feelings was something he’d rather bury.

He shivered loudly as he rubs his thigh, the crotch of his dress pants tented. He can’t afford to give in, he knows this. Any more alcohol and he’d probably be sent to ER.

Despite this Michael lets his other arm slide down his body, rubbing seductively against his tensed leg. The cigarette is hanging from his lips as he tries and fails not to look down at himself.

The feeling of his tight dress pants restricting his shaking thighs and straining erection is incredibly erotic, his cock clearly straining against the rough fabric. The material was fitted in all the right places, pulling and tightening around his legs and hips whenever he stretched too vigorously.

Michael’s hand drifts upwards, stopping at the button of his trousers. He’s breathing heavily as he unbuttons it, anger bubbling up.

 _‘Stupid fucking Roman with his stupid fucking smirk, making me feel like this.’_ Michael can’t help but whimper as he slides his shaking hand into his trousers. The house suddenly feels hot even though he has his balcony door open, and a cool summer breeze was filtering in.

Small noises akin to a wounded dog escaped Michael’s throat. His cheeks are pink, the humiliation of letting himself go is overwhelming. He thinks of how he must look in front of Roman when they meet. On his knees, his usual tense, judging demeanour falling apart as he lets his rival tease him however he pleases.

 _Rival_ , that word has much significance in Michael’s life. His entire upbringing was centered around his father’s company. To be the heir of a multimillionaire dollar business was daunting enough, if his father found out he was letting his rival companies head feel him up... well.

Michael curls his fingers around his feverish cock through his thin boxers after ignoring it for all of the week. The relief was immediate and his forgotten cigarette tumbles out of his mouth and onto the tiled floor as he lets out a loud groan.

 _‘Michael Fitzgerald, Multi-million Company Heir and Shameless Man-Whore.’_ Sounded like an accurate title.

“Fucking hell.” Michael says, breathless, spreading his shaking thighs further. He hates how unbelievably sensitive he is, how his traitorous body responds to Roman’s taunting and rough touches.

Michael knows it would be humiliating even if it was any other man. His taste for men is just yet another thing he hopes his father never finds out about. Others include the drugs he spent his first pay-check on, and the way his knees buckle when someone clasps a dog collar around his neck.

The thought sends Michael’s sex-addled brain into a frenzy, pulling up images of Roman towering above him in his impeccably tailored Burberry suit. Roman always dressed as if he was in the 60’s, beige-black suit and dress pants.

Michael squeezed his eyes tight at the memory of Roman’s dress shoes pressed against his crotch. Roman had spent an especially long time teasing Michael that night. When he finally moved on, he pulled at the leash looped around Michael’s neck. He’d brought Michael’s face against his groin, chasing his release by thrusting into Michael’s hot throat thoughtlessly as his leg pressed between the twinks hairless thighs.

Michael’s throat constricted almost reflexively in memory. The bruises covering his arms and neck for days afterwards had been hard to hide. He’d stolen his girlfriend’s concealer and tried not to flinch when someone grabbed him. But when he was in private, a harsh push against those beautiful blue-purple marks was enough to get him begging.

Michael was struggling to keep himself together. He tries desperately to keep the tears out of his eyes, helplessness was one of Michael’s most hated emotion. After spending his entire life combating it, it made him feel powerless falling to his knees in front of someone who could easily tear his life apart.

His cock twitched at the truth of that and Michael let out a choked noise as he pulls his arm away from his trousers.

Michael looks around for the bottle of vodka he knows he left out somewhere. His eyes land on it and he leans over to snatch it, unsteady hands unscrewing the lid.

Cold burning liquid slides down Michael’s throat and into his stomach. He lays back and laughs maniacally as he takes another swig. He wasn’t a lightweight by any sense, but when alcohol hits him it hits hard.

 _‘You’re such a fucked up mess, it’s a surprise that Roman would even want to touch something so filthy.’_ Tears well up in Michael’s eyes, despite the harshness of his own words he feels a rush of arousal shoot through him.

_‘Your pathetic ass couldn’t live without him.’_

And with that Michael sticks his other hand back into his trousers, this time sliding them into his boxers.

He doesn’t do much but rub his knuckles against his length. Michael doesn’t know how it’s humanly possible to be as sensitive as he is. He wraps a hand around himself and is able to manage a few seconds until he has to stop himself.

Michael can’t lie that Roman is extremely attractive, despite dressing like he should be long dead. There was something weirdly hot about seeing him in that checkered dress jacket wanking off his straining length in front of Michael’s face.

Michael pulls his pants down, letting his dick spring out. Trembling, skinny fingers squeeze the base, attempting to calm himself down slightly.

Scars of different sizes and pattern littered Michael’s wrists and forearms. They’d generally make him uncomfortable but the sight of them now made him huff loudly. The thought of a sharp blade cutting into his smooth milky skin made him excited, the tentative beading of scarlet blood from the shallow cut.

The thought is disturbing yet arousing and Michael‘s finger trail lightly up his cock. His tongue lolls out as he throws around the idea. He’d never actually had the guts to cut himself, it was always Roman who’d done it.

The fact that his mind worked like this made Michael slightly concerned. Wanting to scratch himself up wasn’t something he was new too, but it had never made him feel as giddy as it did now. He fists himself gently, raising the mouth of his bottle to his lips.

Michael’s apartment is always clean and orderly in case a business partner or family member comes by. Roman had only come by once.

They’d left the place in tatters, decorations broken and plants toppled as they wrestled. It didn’t take long for Michael to be pinned to the wall. Then the kitchen counter. Then his bed.

Michael’s heart thunders as the alcohol works through him. He’s close but he knows he can’t let himself cum or Roman would be mad.

He knew it was ugly when the man got mad, he had a plethora of scars to prove it. Roman didn’t take lightly to rebellion.

This had never stopped Michael though. Drinking and yelling and disobeying generally led to his thin fragile body being tied to the nearest surface and beat senseless. He loved every bit of it.

He remembers those nights clearly. The pain and humiliation as Roman hit him, the feeling of unforgiving leather hitting his bare thighs and ass. Angry welts stinging as Roman spent himself inside of him.

Michael’s fingers sought out his mouth, luxuriously pushing onto his hot tongue, just like Roman would. The man had an oral fixation that often led to Michael’s mouth being filled with something or another. 

_‘Stop giving in, stop it now and you can forget about all of this.’_ Michael cried out, sucking on his fingers. If only it was that easy, he doubts Roman would leave him alone even if Michael could walk away.

Because he knows that this isn’t just sex. Roman could do anything to him and he doubts he could be able to say no.

He remembers the night in the motel almost a month ago. Completely used and lethargic, drunk and high off of his mind. Roman held him still against the wall and fucked his ass until it was loose and Michael could barely feel anything but the press against his over sensitive prostate. Then roman had pissed inside of him with a loud growl of relief, ignoring Michaels’ slurred protests of discomfort.

 _‘But you were hard.’_ Michael gasped, letting go off his cock moments before an orgasm. His shoe crunched on something as he spread his legs further. He had dropped the almost empty vodka bottle on the floor at some point, large pieces glass scattered about.

He _had_ been hard, writhing against the wall in a heap of pleasure and humiliation. The way Michael’s body perked up when he was used like a fuck toy only made him unbelievably embarrassed and guilty. He _had_ enjoyed the feeling of Roman’s hot, dirty piss dribbling out of him as much as he enjoyed being tied up and fucked. He was so fucked up, the reminder hung like fog in the air.

Michael’s thoughts are running a mile per second, overwhelming and indecipherable. His body is strung tight, begging for some sort of release, for the sharp pain that Roman would usually be there to supply.

 _‘You could never hurt yourself.’_ Michael’s mind was taunting him, the singsong voice of his conscience dancing around him. He shook his head, not wanting to admit defeat. If he wanted something he could sure as well fucking get it.

Michael picked up the glass laying on the floor in a frenzy, barely registering his actions as he brought it down onto his forearm. He drug it quickly against his pale milky flesh, wailing at the sudden sting he never got used to.

 _‘Stop touching yourself. You’re filthy, stop liking men.’_ Michael’s anger flared, the sting fading as he brings the glass down onto his skin over and over again. Blood is dribbling from his arm onto his thighs. His thoughts rage with words he’s heard from his father, his deadbeat mother, from Roman himself.

A needy hum is echoing from his throat that he doesn’t register until his arm starts to throb with the sudden onslaught of pain. He was shaking from his very core, cock twitching mindlessly on his thigh. He doesn’t want to stop, the sharp chastising pain was just the thing to put him in his place.

He almost doesn’t stop, only when he feels the blood pooling in his palm does his sudden spike fade. He looks down, eyes wide. With a wet gasp he throws the glass away. It makes a resounding sound against tile, loud and stabilizing.

Blood dripped steadily from Michael’s wrist like a river, far more than he had ever handled before. The sight is intoxicating, but his vision is blurring and the alcohol is making him dizzy.

“No, no no no.” He wails as his blood drips onto his lap, landing on his cock and thighs.

Before Michael can rationalize, he’s dropped his head down to lick himself clean. The sting as his tongue runs over loose skin is almost off putting, but his blood tastes hot and metallic. The act feels unbelievably satisfying, but his arm feels like dead weight and every lick makes guilt and pain flare inside of him.

“Roman, _Roman_.” Michael wants him, needs him. His hands are scrambling at his phone, tears and blood staining his clothes.

Michael’s hands type out a shaky message full of typos, but he doesn’t notice. He stands up on shaky legs and buttons his pants. His erection keeps him from walking properly, he drunkenly grabs the cloth on the countertop and wraps it around his arm.

Before anyone can stop him Michael’s out of the elevator and in his car. His lip quivers as he looks around the parking lot, trying to remember how to start his car.

Once he’s on the road, the drowsiness really starts to set in. He’s bled straight through the cloth and onto his sleek leather seats. His tears make it hard to see, thankfully Roman doesn’t live too far away.

Michael passes buildings and places that drive painful nostalgia through him like a stake. He looks over at a park, clenching the steering wheel of his convertible.

That’s where he took his first girlfriend on one of their last few dates. They had fucked on the park bench. It was possibly the most revolting thing Michael remembers ever doing.

Being with women were in general quite miserable memories. Michael hopes he wouldn’t have to go through that again. It just felt painfully wrong. He had never really registered that a sense of unease and nausea isn’t supposed to overwhelm the pleasure you’re having sex.

The memory of fucking them made Michael want to throw up over his dashboard. He reminds himself that he’d rather be fucked than fuck someone, he wonders briefly whether dating women was worth it if it meant not being a faggot.

The long concrete runway to Roman house had Michael picking up speed. He’s pretty sure he almost hit a few pedestrians on his way here.

Michael’s out of his car in seconds, parking it haphazardly on the driveway. Roman’s house was massive, inherited property from his father. Lucky bastard wasn’t any more than a few years older than Michael either.

Michael stumbles up the steps and before he can knock the door creaks open. His breathing picks up and his hands violently shake as he pushes himself up against the doorframe.

“Roman— hello?” Michael’s voice sounds slurred and he’s not quite sure if he got the words out correctly. He takes two steps and feels a pair of strong arms wrap around his stomach, pulling him back possessively.

“Michael.” Roman’s voice is low, somehow seductive yet also conversational. The voice that he so well knows and loves makes Michael freeze up. He makes a soft noise of confirmation and leans back, cock stirring once more at the feeling of Roman’s built body against his back.

This was something no woman could ever give him. Hard flat planes rubbing against him, a deep gravelly voice telling him exactly what to do.

Roman tightens his grip and Michael gasps and whines loudly, squirming like he’s caught prey. Roman growls against Michael’s hair, Michael can feel it. A hand comes up to close around Michael’s thin neck.

“Fitzgerald, I was in a meeting.” Michael whines, pushing back against Roman. He didn’t know what he had expected, Roman is cold and distant at the best of times. Nevermind when Michael drops by practically unannounced mid day.

“I think you should apologize.” Roman says, smooth voice tickling the back of Michael’s neck. 

Michael opens his mouth to answer but he’s cut off when his body smashes against a wall. Roman’s chuckling darkly, tying something around Michael’s neck.

The rope is tight and rough and Roman chokes Michael until he stops struggling. He flips Michael’s limp body around, moving back and tugging on the rope.

Michael takes that as his que and falls to his knees. Roman’s eyes roam, examining Michael’s waiting body. His sight land on Michael’s arm almost immediately, his smirk widens like a cheshire cat.

“Michael, did you miss me?” Roman slowly slides down to his knees too, making Michael gasp wetly. He reached down and grabbed Michael’s arm. Michael gave a wince and tried to pull his arm back but Roman’s grip simply tightened to the point of excruciating pain. Michael let out a loud yelp and let himself be dragged forward.

“Answer my question.” Roman growled, sliding the bloody cloth off of the wounds. He caught Michael’s eye contact, letting his tongue loll out and harshly lick the cuts. It was tender and stung like hell, which is why Michael nodded his head affirmatively and spread his legs. He was lightheaded, his body thrumming with anxiety and fear as he made eye contact with Roman.

Roman was unforgiving, his hold tight enough to make the wounds bleed. His tongue rubbed at the cuts aggressively, trying to coax out more blood. When he stopped Michael was trembling, tears rolling down his face unconsciously.

“Don’t cry Mikey, we’re only having a bit of fun.” Roman spat, hand pulling at the rope. He picks up Michael’s shaking arm and thrusts the forearm into Michael’s face.

“You did this to yourself you stupid whore. Can’t help yourself can you? What would your father say.” Michael twitches like a fish out of water. He forgot the way Roman’s words stung. The degrading tone makes his cock spurt in his pants and he feels anger well up.

“More than yours.” Michael hisses, trying to will up as much anger that he could manage into his retort.

Roman freezes in his actions and Michael immediately regrets lashing out. Roman’s hands are shaking and there’s an emotion in his hands that’s foreign but dangerous.

“Watch your mouth Fitzgerald.” Roman growled, his quiet anger terrifying Michael. Before he can apologize, Roman gives the rope a yank upward.

Michael’s eyes widen as he sputters, being hung from Roman’s arm. The rope crushes Michael’s windpipe and his feet seem just out of reach from the floor. Roman’s face contorts and Michael watches as his increasingly teary eyes slowly block out his face.

“Please... I’m sorry.” Michael manages to gasp out through the rope, feeling Roman’s grip loosen.

Michael’s heart jumps and he tries to make the most pitiful face he can manage. It supposedly works as Roman drops him.

Michael croaks for breath, eyesight barely clearing before Roman pulls Michael in by his hair. He tries not to make eye contact, feeling like a disobedient dog.

“We’re going to try something new today Mikey.” Michael looks up so fast it almost gives him whiplash. Roman has got up and left the room.

Michael looks down at his legs, holding onto them in a tight shaky grip. He’s incredibly hard, a weeks worth of abstinence making him twitch at the slightest simulation.

His arm was aching from Roman’s thoughtless manhandling. The cuts look less appealing now that they were raw and inflamed, all of the blood had been stripped away leaving a clear look at the true massacre that had occurred.

Roman comes back with something flesh coloured in his hand. Roman grabs Michael by his hair and pulls him up, ignoring his scream of pain.

“I’m getting you off.” Roman smirked deviously, sliding behind Michael again. The boy barely has time to think before his trousers are shoved unceremoniously to his lower thighs.

Michael’s cock takes that as a que to let out a long string of pre-come and his knees buckle as he visibly twitches through his pants.

Roman scoffs, pulling his waistband down. Michael’s cock is feverishly hot, springing up to hit his flat stomach.

Moving back, Roman leaned against the wall and pulled Michael into him. He has his legs around Romans thin body, shaking like paper. It registers in Michael’s mind that with how thin and weak it was it wouldn’t be hard for Roman to snap his arms.

The reminder makes Michael keen and he jerks his hand back. Roman isn’t taking it, holding him tighter. He groans loudly, dropping his mouth to the shaking boy’s neck. He’s nipping Michael, dragging his strong palms suggestively up his thighs.

Michael let out a long moan, grinding back against Roman’s crotch in deep circular movements. Roman takes the moment to tie a cloth around Michael’s eyes.

Roman rests his chin on Michael’s shoulder as he pulls out something from behind him. Michael’s getting desperate, rutting back against the outline of Roman’s hard cock.

With an amused laugh Roman brings the fleshlight between Michael’s legs. Michael freezes at the sound but starts moving again, needy.

Roman slides the fleshlight around Michael’s cock. Michael yelps suddenly, digging his fingers into Roman’s arms and trying to twist away.

“Why the fuck are you fighting?” Roman knows exactly why, he knows everything about Michael. Including the way his stomach turns at the reminder of his past girlfriends.

Michael’s yelling and hitting Roman’s arms but he’s not strong enough to break free. Roman pushes Michael forward slightly so he can’t lean back against him.

“Oh Michael! Michael! Cum inside of me.” Roman makes loud high pitched noises from behind Michael, moving the slick fleshlight quickly. The air is filled with dirty squelching noises and Michael is making choking noises.

“You feel so good Michael! Grab my tits.” Roman doesn’t need to hold Michael anymore, the boy is standing paralyzed. His breaths are choked and his eyes are watering and dampening the blindfold.

Michael is still half hard, just as he was when his girlfriends would demand that he fuck them. The fleshlight didn’t feel good, the familiar tight feeling around his cock made his stomach turn.

“No, no— Melanie, stop.” Michael’s knees are buckling and he’s sobbing, feeling confused and panicked. Roman sighs gently, untying the blindfold.

“It’s not real Fitzgerald.” Michael’s shuddering, shaking his head. Even though when he looks down all he can see is the fleshlight squeezing his mostly flaccid cock, his mind is still running through the night at the park.

“No— no, I don’t like it!” Michael lashes out, his breathing unsteady. Roman gives an angry growl, throwing the fleshlight to the side.

“Calm down dumbass.” Roman pulls Michael back against his chest and Michael wails thankfully, going boneless.

His legs buckled and Roman held him up, hand coming around to wrap around his half hard cock. Michael gave a whine, sluggishly thrusting his hips forward.

“Fine with my hand but not a fleshlight? You’re fucking gay Mikey.” Michael lets out an overwhelmed noise, trying to answer.

“A-am not. ‘M straight.” Michael slurs, trying to push himself as close to Roman as possible. The older man lets out an unbelieving sound and starts to grind against Michael’s ass.

“I don’t know any straight guys who cry at the thought of fucking a woman. Maybe i should send your father a voice message. Maybe he can decide whether or not his son’s gay after he sees him moaning around my cock.” Roman threatened, unbuttoning his pants with one hand.

“No, no! You can’t.” Michael sobbed. Roman gives a quiet chuckle and continues unbuttoning. Michael starts to beg, grabbing onto Roman’s expensive button up.

The thought of his father knowing that he likes men makes every part of Michael shake with fear. His father was the only adult Michael had ever cared to please and the only adult that had ever treated him like more than a stuck up rich kid. He was a disappointment enough without being a shirt-lifter too.

Michael grabs Roman’s hand that’s around his cock, bringing it up to his lips and licking desperately. He pushes his fingers back into his throat, gasping and licking sloppily like a thirsty whore.

“I-I’ll do anything. You can fuck me with the f-fleshlight again.” Michael gasped, two fingers down his throat as he tried to please Roman. The taller man watched as Michael twitched and cried like a child about to be hit. It was pathetic but also unfairly arousing.

Roman messed around with him a bit more, taking his phone out of his pocket and opening it. Michael tried to bat it away but he started recording, throwing it on the coffee table.

“If you cum before I tell you, that video is going straight to your father.” Roman instructed, pulling his pants off. Michael sighed in relief, letting Roman pull his fingers out of his mouth.

Michael gasps as he feels two fingers prodding at his asshole. They push in slowly, aided by nothing but a bit of spit.

“ _Ack_!” Tears are knocked off of Michael’s chin as his entire body moves back and forth. He’s bent slightly, Roman is aggressively pumping the digits in and out of him.

Michael hears the cap of a bottle being clicked open and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Roman was far too big to fuck him dry without some serious damage being done.

“I hope you’re ready, slut.” Roman snaps, lining himself up. The aggressive tone itself is enough to make Michael’s stomach fill with want.

Roman’s thick cock breaches Michael’s small mostly unprepared hole and Michael cries out in pain. Though his cock barely wilts, it doesn’t feel as hard as it was a moment ago.

“Wanna fuck you so hard you can’t sit for days. Mmm— fuck, relax.” Michael’s tongue lolls out again as he tries to stay in control, his body is involuntarily shaking with pleasure. After over a week he’d forgotten how good it felt to have Roman pistoning thoughtlessly into him. He tried to ignore his dick standing thick and hard between his legs but at this rate he was going to end up cumming completely handless.

“S-slow down please.” Michael gasps, trying to ignore the building pleasure in his stomach. Roman finds it funny and he starts to move his hips faster, fucking up into Michael.

“Maybe if you weren’t a faggot who can’t get off without a cock up his ass you’d be able to handle this.” Roman was rambling as he thrust uncontrollably against Michael. Roman’s hand sneaked around to start and wank off Michael and the boy gave tried scooting away.

“Jesus christ, how did you ever manage without me? Such a pretty toy.” Roman grinds deeper, until he can’t anymore. He grabs Michael by his arms and spins him around.

Michael is balanced against the wall and Roman takes no time in pushing back into him.

It’s even harder in this position when Michael can see Roman’s handsome face as his cock fills him up nicely.

Michael found Roman unfairly attractive, especially when he was so far gone in pleasure that he’d put his fingers anywhere he wanted and all Michael could do was cry and take it.

Roman’s thrusts became sloppy, an indicator that he was close. Michael grit his teeth as Roman fisted Michael’s cock in a slick grip. Michael’s mind flitted back to how much Roman’s words from earlier stung, crying out wetly at the harsh memory.

Roman growled possessively, hand coming up to Michael’s face. He unceremoniously shoves two fingers into the crying boy’s mouth, pushing them as far back as he could. Michael was used to it, trying his best to keep his jaw relaxed and his throat open.

Roman is making small grunts and moans in Michael’s ear, knowing that they made Michael horny as hell. Michael spent all of his energy not blowing his load over Roman’s face and chest. Roman knew exactly what to do to get Michael’s touch deprived, needy self feel so good and full that he could cry.

It doesn’t take Roman long to cum, he growls loudly like a predator taking claim over prey. His hand got tighter, used to holding Michael’s writhing body still as he finished his business.

But unlike the usual grunt or two, Roman pushed himself closer to Michael and started to whimper. Filthy, breathless things like how Michael felt so good, about how Roman’s cock was already to fuck him again. He sticks another finger inside of Michael’s mouth, slowly filling him more.

Michael is caught off guard when Roman gives a particularly loud growl, the sudden heat of fresh piss filling up Michael. He jerks his fingers out of Michael’s mouth and curls them around his dick.

Roman squeezes Michael’s cock desperately and Michael is far past the edge. He tells himself that it can’t get any worse when Roman starts whimpering again.

“Love you— I love you Michael.” Roman gasps, cock still spitting piss as his lips crash against Michael’s.

Like a switch was flipped, Michael’s stiff posture broke. He writhed and gasped as he kissed Roman, Roman’s tongue forcing its way into Michael’s mouth.

Roman pulled back, spit dripping from both of their chins. Michael‘s groan is broken as he cums, Roman’s cock spitting the last few streams of piss inside of him.

“I—I, fuck” Michael managed, watching with hazy interest as Roman milks his cock. Michael keeps cumming as Roman teases his oversensitive cock.

Michael eventually batted Roman’s hand away, wincing slightly. The room was eerily quiet. Roman’s head started to inch closer to Michael’s, his sharp cheekbones and impeccable eyelashes even better up close.

Michael lunges forward to kiss the man, only to be met with air. Roman pulls out of Michael, stepping away and letting his frail body crunch against the ground.

“R-Roman?” Michael says, voice coming out in strained coughs. Roman turns around, face contorted in disgust.

“That’s Mister Lockwood to you, Fitzgerald.” Michael frowns, crawling over to Roman on one shaking arm. The blood loss makes it hard to stand and the arm isn’t strong enough to support him. He looks pathetic, legs dragging behind him. Michael is watching and wiping at his mouth with his cuff, seemingly horrified.

“Please don’t send the message, I’m begging you.” Michael hangs onto Roman’s leg, nuzzling into his crotch.

Michael almost cries as Roman spits on him, growling threateningly. He remembers the feel of those soft lips on his own and his heart aches at the sudden change of direction.

Roman seems to hesitate but soon Michael hears the delete sound effect. He lets out a sound of relief, ragdolling on Michael’s leg and straddling it.

“I love you too Roman.” Michael says quietly, arms tightening around Roman’s leg. Roman freezes, then kicks off Michael with impatience. Michael falls onto the coffee table, back crunching.

Roman walks over, keeping his distance. He pokes at Michael with his foot, pressing it against his stomach.

Michael spreads his legs wider, letting out a small moan. He acts like a dog, panting loudly. Roman gags, kicking him hard.

“Shut the fuck up, don’t be disgusting you pathetic bitch!” Roman roars, kicking him again. Pain strikes Michael in the gut and his vision spins.

“I-I’m sorry I— please _stop_!” Michael's screaming like a banshee, his arm bleeding once again as Roman grinds his dress shoes against it. The pain is unbelievable, like a hot iron being rubbed against flesh.

“How could anyone love you? Crawling around on that disgusting useless bony body of yours, leaking with another man’s piss and cum.” Michael huddles into a ball, holding his knees. Even in Roman’s most harsh moments, he had never been this aggressive.

“You’re lucky I’m keeping you around faggot. You’re worthless, no one could love such a revolting thing.” Roman gives one last kick before stumbling backwards. His hands are shaking with misdirected anger and confusion.

Michael whispers to himself, sobbing uncontrollably as he bled out onto Roman’s cold hardwood floor.

“C-can you choke me?” Michael gasps between loud sobs, hand scratching at his cuts. Roman freezes, eyes narrowing.

“Please... please strangle me.” Roman watches in terror as Michael’s weak arms come to wrap his fingers around his neck, trying and failing to squeeze. Michael’s legs are twisted oddly, his wrist and face bleeding onto the shiny floor.

Roman walks up to Michael tentatively, rolling him over with his foot like a dead body. Michael cringes back, holding onto himself like a child.

“Get the fuck out of my house Fitzgerald.” Roman says with a horrified look on his face, pulling Michael up by his hair with a grimace. Michael nodded quickly, falling to the floor when Roman drops him. He crawls outside, ignoring the loud yelling and the sound of glass breaking as soon as he’s out of the door. 

Michael is able to make it all the way to his car, crashing into the seat with a whine. He collapses against the steering wheel, staring ahead at a swaying willow tree in Roman’s front yard. His mind is blank and his heart is heavy.

Tears and blood stained the expensive leather and his pale skin. His body contorts oddly, bones and muscles broken and torn.

“ _Fuck_.” Michael whispers to himself, head thundering as his eyes drip with more tears. Roman’s sudden outbreak made Michael’s entire body thrum with sadness, the overwhelming harshness of his words much worse than the physical pain. He simply stares at the lawn, everything eerily quiet as his mind disturbed mind tried to put the pieces together.

With a choked sob Michael turns around to the backseat of his car, picking up a long length of rope. He looks at it with blank eyes, slowly opening the car door. With all of his remaining energy, he stumbles to the tree and throws the rope over the lowest branch.

**Author's Note:**

> Any critique or kind words would be greatly appreciated! If you want to see more with Roman and Michael please do comment :)


End file.
